


Breakout

by ConfessionForAnotherTime



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blood, Implied Torture, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2119554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfessionForAnotherTime/pseuds/ConfessionForAnotherTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucker hatches a plan to break Wash, Donut, and Sarge out of the Feds compound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakout

“I just want my friend back.” Tucker sighed as his visor down casted, the slump of his shoulders making him appear more vulnerable.  
“Tucker, I know you haven’t always been smart, but I could be your friend,” Caboose offered.  
“Thanks Caboose, but it isn’t the same.”  
“Is Agent Washington your Church?” Caboose asked.  
Tucker tensed at the question. He couldn’t admit to Caboose that much of his interactions could be nothing like what Caboose and Church had experienced, even in the slightest. Church, while he had been cruel at times to the dimwit of a recruit had never been there, fully, as a physical entity to Caboose. His parade as an AI possessing an android had fooled much of the team, at least until the android had been rendered unusable. Sure, Tucker had caught Church talking with Caboose, telling him stories, playing games with him, many things that friends would do. However, his interactions with Agent Washington had been different. Tucker always felt like a subordinate to him. It was always “peak condition” this and “leg day” that. It was not dissimilar to how an actual military operation would have function, if any of them even knew what that was like before Agent Washington joined their team.  
Yet, several years had passed from the time that Washington had donned Church’s armor for the sake of escaping the scrutiny of the courts of the UNSC and had assumed a place as leader of Blue Army. It wasn’t until more recently that he had actually gotten to know Washington, as opposed to just listening to things he said from time to time. Caboose’s grasp on the situation as a whole had been a difficult adjustment, with months of him mistaking Washington for Church, both on purpose as well as accident. As time had gone on, with the help of Carolina, they had been able to retrieve Church, or what Caboose called Church, from the Epsilon unit. However, his demeanor had changed from those months in the memory unit, finding a closeness in Carolina as they searched for the Director. Tucker supposed that Washington staying in Church’s armor was for the best as Caboose handled change about as well as you would expect.

“Tucker?” Caboose asked, nudging him.

“Yeah Caboose?” Tucker pulled his arm away, shooting Caboose a glare that he wouldn’t see inside his helmet.

“I asked if Agent Washington was your Church?” Caboose coocked his head inquisitively, hoping for the kind of response that would allow for the talk of best friends and snacks.

“Agent Washington and I are nothing like you and Church.” Caboose recoiled slightly, confused by Tucker’s tone.

“But I thought—”

“No Caboose. Like I said, Agent Washington and I are nothing like you and Church.” Tucker got up from his seat on the crate leaving Caboose to himself. Tucker bumped into Lieutenant Smith on his way out of the base, instructing him to check on Caboose and keep him busy. Smith responded with a fervor that he hasn’t seen in their squad since the time of Captain Flowers, but Tucker had other matters to attend to.

It had been months since Washington, Donut, and Sarge had been captured by Locus and the Feds. It had been months as they had stayed with Kimball and Felix, devising plan after plan to make their way to their captured teammates and it had been months since any of them had heard any word as to if Washington, Donut, and Sarge were even still alive. With all the reconnaissance that he and Felix had done recently, he had held onto hope that any news of where they were being held would be given away. Unfortunately for Tucker and the others, very little new information had been able to be gathered and any messages that had been sent to any of their captured team never delivered. The amount of messages that Tucker was sitting on to Washington, to Sarge, and even to Donut continued to pile up, each of them still denoting a “pending” instead of “delivered”. Tucker had come to the conclusion that they had been stripped of their armor to easier control them in their captured state, or at least that’s what he had hoped. Each passing day where a message didn’t send chipped away at his resolve that the three of them would all come back alive and in one piece.

Tucker shook the thought from his mind. He had to keep positive in hopes that there were still teammates left to save.

“It’s impossible to stay positive when my friend might be dying,” Tucker said to no one.

“What was that Captain?” a familiar voice asked suddenly.

Tucker groaned. “Shut the fuck up Palomo.”

———-

“We’re leaving.” The outcries from Caboose, Simmons, and Grif were silenced quickly by the seriousness in Tucker’s voice when he repeated himself. Grif found his way to the motor pool while Tucker gathered supplies with Caboose. They loaded the vehicles up, setting out with Tucker leading their charge.

Hours passed before they stopped, Tucker refusing to entertain Grif and Simmons in their need to check out road signs, which thankfully there were none of on this side of the planet, if any at all. Tucker had little time to think about the usual inane chatter that he usually put up with on their trips.

“Hellllooooooo! Anybody hoooooome?” Tucker called into the empty building. He brushed off Grif and Simmons having their discussion about super powers and which ones would be worse in a given situation, hoping to scout out something, anything that would lead them in the correct direction.

“I’m going to go look for something to eat!” Tucker glanced to see Grif disappear into the unexplored building, shaking his head at the stupidity of the soldier. If he could call him that. Tucker continued to search for someone, anyone that could have been at the refueling station, both to help them refuel and also to see if there was anyone around who could hopefully point them in the correct direction.

“Yo dudes?” Grif called out, returning to the outside of the refueling station, “you should probably come and look at this.”

The four of them gathered around the rotting corpse of the unfortunate individual who had been stuffed in the locker.

“Well, shit.”

“No Tucker, that looks like a body.. not the other thing you mentioned.”

“Shut up Caboose. You know what I meant. Wait, no. You probably don’t. Basically Caboose, this is bad.”

“Why bad?” Caboose inquired, cocking his head.

“Because it means that Locus’ body count has gone up fairly recently.”

Simmons bowed his head, hoping not to confirm anything that Tucker was saying. Instead he opened the next locker, finding it empty before going through the next one and the next one, until they all had been searched.

“Uh, guys. You may want to come look at this,” Simmons called at the end of the row of lockers. He pulled out a pair of gauntlets in steel gray and yellow, followed by greaves in pink, and half of a kneepad in regulation red. Aside from the kneepad, all of them were relatively unscuffed and, to Tucker’s relief, unbloodied, just discarded.

“He wanted us to find these,” Tucker remarked coldly as he threw them back in the locker and slammed it shut.

“I’m pretty sure he did,” Grif agreed, pointing to the wall next to them. Carved into the steel of the refueling station wall read “Come find me Reds and Blues. Maybe I’ll let them go.”

“Like fuck he would let them go,” Tucker spat, signaling for them to return to the Warthogs.

“Tucker, uhm, yeah, now might be a good time to mention that I heard people talking in the cave by us before I came in here yeah.”

“Yes, Caboose, that would have been good to mention BEFORE we came in here,” Tucker grated out, his annoyance level climbing.

“Well, I’m saying something now!” Tucker sighed, signaling to Caboose to tell them what direction to head in.

——

They found their way to the other end of the caves, Tucker tapping the fuel gauge as it started to teeter into the realm of half empty. Worrying had never been one of his strong points. The night wore on and Tucker’s patience wore thin to the point where he asked Simmons to switch jeeps with him for the sake of having a break from Caboose playing “I Spy” with himself. Simmons didn’t provide much of a relief from the same kind of inanities that Caboose was sharing with him, as he was continuing his discussion of lame super powers with him instead of Grif now. Tucker tired of this after a half hour, stopping their caravan to shove Simmons onto the turret of the Warthog following him in favor of some peace.

Tucker’s alone time took on a whole new meaning when he found that there was no one to distract him now. Despite how annoying he found their actions, being lost in his thoughts of desperation to get Wash back weren’t comforting. He found himself thinking about what would happen when they found Wash and the others. He hoped there would still be a Wash to find and shoved those thoughts from his mind as quickly as they came. He figured they would be a little worse for wear, but hoped that Locus wouldn’t do more than press them for information, but Locus was an unknown. He knew that he would take them by force if necessary, but he didn’t figure that he would leave them all unscathed.

“TUCKER!” Grif called from the Warthog behind him, pushing the darker thoughts from his immediate attention. “It looks like there’s a base over there! We should head that way.” Tucker smiled at the thought of Grif suggesting their next move, considering he didn’t usually move much at all. They parked the Warthogs behind some rocks, hoping to hide them from sight and keep their presence unknown to the forces inside the base for as long as possible. It meant that the likelihood that they would have to run to the Warthogs if they needed to escape would be higher and thus make their likelihood of being captured skyrocket, but Tucker felt confident that this was the base they needed, if the little amount of information he had was anything to go on. He drew his sword and motioned for the others to follow him to the edge of the rock where they were hiding.

“Grif, I need you and Simmons to flank to the right. Caboose and I will flank left. Head into the base once you see an open entrance. Got it?” Tucker spoke with a little more urgency as he continued his instruction. Caboose nodded very slowly. Grif and Simmons just stared.

“You two fuckers go that way and go in the base. Caboose, shut up and follow me. Got it?”

“Now that I understood.” Grif nodded and motioned for Simmons to follow. Tucker led Caboose around the rock to the left side of the base. It was closer in size to the Freelancer Headquarters, as Caboose told him, than their regular old bases, but Tucker ignored him. He motioned with his sword for Caboose to keep up, the two of them slipping in the unmonitored entrance with more ease than Tucker thought they would have. He tried to radio to Simmons or Grif, but the two of them had their radios off for one reason or another, making Tucker roll his eyes for no one’s benefit but his own.

Tucker crept further into the base, most of the guard and other soldiers not in his current vicinity. Tucker noted the pipes following the top of the hallway, diverging into another hallway when they changed pattern. He was unsure as to why he chose to follow that way, but his efforts proved fruitful in the end. The pipes led him and Caboose to a control room of sorts, complete with consoles and cameras of the entire compound.

Caboose radioed to Tucker about all the buttons they had found, Tucker hushing him in the process.

“One of these rooms needs to contain Washington,” he told Caboose as he looked for some kind of sign that there was a detention block clearly labeled for him. Tucker searched through the monitors, settling on Cell Block Delta. The multitude of armed guards in that area was enough to cause suspicion that they were being held in that block. A quick scan of the monitors showed Sarge in Cell D-4, Donut occupying D-7, and Washington further away from the other two in D-21. Sarge was pacing in his cell, yelling at the occasional guard. Tucker noted that he looked smaller than he usually did, likely from the armor plating of his suit having been removed, leaving him with only the kevlar body suit. Donut was sitting in the corner of his cell, his legs tuck up and his arms holding them close. He had also been stripped of his armored plating.

Tucker’s eyes scanned to Wash’s cell. He was remarkably still but Tucker could see his fingers subtle movements as well as his feet shuffle as he was leaned over on the bench, his eyes cast at the floor. Tucker checked the map for the quickest way to get to the cell block. He turned to Caboose.

“So you know how you got angry for Church before he left?” Tucker asked. Caboose nodded slowly. “Well Caboose, I need you to get angry for me too.”

“Is it because you aren’t smart enough to get angry yourself. You are kinda dumb,” Caboose stated matter of factly. Tucker hung his head.

“Yes, Caboose, it’s because I’m dumb and I need you to help me. Can you run down this hallway and make a lot of noise so I can sneak in and get the others out? It looks like Simmons and Grif are distracting what few guards are outside.”

“I think I can do that. Church would be so good at this too. You should have Washington help you once you get him out so he can be your Church.” Caboose nodded and ran off.

“Caboose—,” Tucker started, finishing the rest for himself, “he’s so much more than my Church.”

——

Tucker found the cell block easy enough, especially with the racket Caboose was making. The guard ran in the direction of his commotion, leaving the rest of the block unattended, keys in plain sight. Tucker grabbed them without a moment’s hesitation and padded his way down the hall.

“Pssst, hey Tucker,” Wash called from a nearby hallway. Tucker continued past him as he headed down the cellblock past 30, down to 25, and stopping at 21. Wash kept his stance back down the hallway. Tucker looked in. The cell door was shut, but unlocked, and based on the blood trail he had just noticed smeared with footprints, he figured he could follow them once he had a chance to get Sarge and Donut free too.

“Wash has made it this far. He’ll know what to do after I find him.”

As Tucker came to Donut’s cell, the smaller blonde had recoiled at the sound of people outside.

“Donut, I’m here to get you out.” Donut hopped up in a blur. “Man, am I glad to see you.” The cell door clicked open, Donut rushing out as quick as he could.

“Donut, go back that way and wait at the end of the hall. Wait for me to come get you. Caboose is distracting the guards while Simmons and Grif take care of the ones outside.”

“Are you four all that came?”

“Donut, just go. I’ll come get you.”

Tucker received less resistance from Sarge as he instructed him to head in the opposite direction down the hallway. Tucker grew concerned as he heard the hissing of electronic doors shut at the end of the hall, sealing the guards outside the compound.

“Come on,” Tucker called to Donut and Sarge, “Wash must have made it to the control room to give us an easier time getting out.” Sarge shot him a quizzical look.

“How is that possible.” Tucker’s heart sank.

“I saw bloodied footprints coming from his cell. He left before I got a chance to get down there.” Sarge continued to stare as Tucker’s voice hitched. “I know I saw him. I could swear I heard him as I came down here too. It was faint, but I know he was here.”

“If you say so, Blue. We should get a move on.” Sarge motioned to the stairwell where Tucker could swear he had heard Wash last.

Tucker saw the blood stains getting less frequent, internally hoping that meant Wash was at least closer for the sake of getting him out of there. Tucker stopped, motioning for Donut and Sarge to stay while he checked the control room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Wash on one of the monitors. A quick scan found nothing more than a few blood smears on the keyboard.

“Tucker, he was in pretty bad shape last we saw him. That was at least a week ago,” Donut explained, hinting.

“No, I saw him on the monitor in his cell. I heard him. His blood is dried on the console right here.” Tucker refused to listen to the others, certain his absolution that Wash was still close by. Tucker motioned for Donut and Sarge to run ahead of him.

“Tucker.” He stopped, dead in his tracks, spinning around in the direction of the voice.

“Did you two hear that?” Tucker asked. They shook their heads, continuing down the hall and to their way out of the base. “I’m going to go check back in here down this hall. The Warthog is outside past the rock on the left once you get outside. I’ll be right back.”

Tucker ran back in, sword drawn. Wash could see him heading back his way.

“Tucker! I’m over this way. I need your help though.” Wash shambled towards the aqua soldier. Tucker kept running toward him, his urgency raised. Wash helped close the distance between them as he clutched his side. Tucker stopped at the juncture of the hallway, mere inches in front of Wash, his shoulders slumping. He lowered his sword, the dim glow illuminating the hallway as Wash stood before him.

“Tucker, we can go home now.” Wash reached to grab Tucker’s arm. Confused, he grabbed again. His hand phased through Tucker’s armor. Tucker looked down each of the empty hallways, unable to find where the voice was coming from. He traveled back to the control room to search the monitors again. Tucker saw a dark figure slumped against the hallway down by the cellblock, back where he had first heard Wash call to him. The clatter of his boots against the cement as he closed the distance between him and the lumped figure leaned against the wall. Tucker ignored the wetness glistening off his kevlar as he knelt by Wash’s body. His neck was slack, his head leaned down against his chest.

“Tucker, I’m right here,” Wash called from behind him. Down the end of the hallway, a group of guards are heading in Tucker’s direction. He turns to face Wash, running in the other direction away from the men closing in on his position. He felt a chill as he passed through Wash.

I must have been chasing a ghost. The thought plagues him as he ran back out of the base, leaving Wash’s body behind. Maybe Caboose was right and Wash was my Church.


End file.
